Sunstroke
by LuxaLucifer
Summary: "Ada, where's Maedhros?" Maglor cleaned his damp forehead with a handkerchief and looked around. There were shirtless Elves in every direction, but no red-headed ones. "He's probably in the coolest spot in a ten-mile radius," confided Maglor. "He wears such heavy layers after all. He hates the heat. He was always more suited for Himring." "Will he...will be be okay?"


Elrond wiped his forehead for what felt like the millionth time. It was horrendously hot outside, so of course Maglor had ended up picking this week to be the week they would move camp. The air was filled with the sounds of fifty or so sweaty Elves working to set up the tents.

Elrond glanced around him. The land was good camping land, with no trees all around them for a few hundred yards. After that there were dense trees on almost every side. If it hadn't been so hot that the ground seemed to be made of liquid glass, Elrond would have thought it beautiful.

"Ada," panted Elrond. Elros was laying out on the ground, exhausted from all their work. They had set up their tents in the early morning, and now it was quickly approaching high noon. "Ada, where's Maedhros?"

Maglor cleaned his damp forehead with a handkerchief and looked around. There were shirtless Elves in every direction, but no red-headed ones. "He's probably in the coolest spot in a ten-mile radius," confided Maglor. "He wears such heavy layers after all. He hates the heat. He was always more suited for Himring."

"Will he...will be be okay?"

Maglor shrugged. "He always has been before now. We're Elves, we can bear the extremes...although..." Maglor was looking more and more uncomfortable. "...It _has_ been _so _hot, and Russandol has been rather unhappy lately. Would you mind finding him and bringing him some water, Elrond? I'm sure he'd be grateful." 'Although he won't say it' was the unspoken thought Elrond and Maglor shared.

Elrond nodded, grabbing a large canteen and stepping over a loudly snoring Elros. He searched the heat-scorched landscape for the coolest area, and spotted a dip in the earth shaded by a two or three gnarled old trees. He quickly made for that spot, only to find that it was farther away than he'd initially assumed. It wasn't long before he was tempted to drink the water himself.

When he finally reached the spot, Elrond was glad to see that his guess was right. Maedhros was hunched up against the thickest tree, long red hair dried in sticky clumps around his broad shoulders.

"Sir?" said Elrond quietly, wondering if Maedhros was asleep. Maedhros stirred and looked up at Elrond. When his eyes met Elrond's they were lined with the age and care of an Elf older than Elrond had ever seen. But that was normal for him, Elrond reminded himself. He just rarely saw Maedhros close enough to notice.

Maedhros squinted up at him. "Ah, Peredhil," he rasped, and to Elrond's alarm he saw that Maedhros was barely conscious. His face shone with dried sweat, and when Elrond knelt down he saw how his thick clothing clung to him. He brushed Maedhros' cheek with the tips of his fingers, wondering why he was no longer sweating. He felt burning hot to the touch.

Elrond cursed suddenly. "Oh, Maedhros. You should have said something. I think you have sunstroke."

Maedhros mumbled something, but Elrond didn't understand him. He grabbed him by the shoulders and gently eased him down, trying to remember everything he'd ever been told about heatstroke. He knew that it could be fatal, and that Maedhros needed to be cooled immediantly. Should he run for help, or should he tend to Maedhros first? He took the canteen and attempted to pour it down Maedhros's throat, but he coughed it up. Despairing, Elrond poured the cool liquid onto Maedhros' face and neck, and the Elf started coughing and regained awareness.

"El-what?" he spluttered hoarsely. "What are you-"

"I think you have sunstroke," said Elrond hurriedly. "We need to get you out of these clothes-"

A look of dawning horror crossed Maedhros's face. "No, no, don't do that," he croaked. "I'll manage, I can do it."

Elrond bit his lip. "No, you can't. Ada would never forgive me if I left you here to pass out and die. It'll take me too long to fetch him, I have to wait until you're stable."

"Please..." begged Maedhros through gritted teeth. "I assure you, you will not..." Whatever he was trying to say went unsaid as the words died from his mouth and his eyes glazed over. Elrond didn't care anymore what Maedhros said, he needed care. Elrond ripped open the lacing on Maedhros' shirt, finding a sheet of chain-mail underneath. He groaned and pulled it over Maedhro's motionless head only to find another shirt, this one incredibly soft. Elrond suddenly remembered a conversation he'd overheard Maglor and Maedhros have ages ago, about Maedhros's sensitive skin.

He unbuttoned the soft shirt as fast as he could, finally reaching Maedhros's actual chest. His fingers stilled at the sight before him.

Scars.

The mutilated skin only barely resembled Maedhros's face. Elrond would not have known that these two parts of him, separated only by a neck, were from the same body if they weren't connected. Maedhros' chest was so thickly layered with scars that Elrond would have been pressed to find a blank inch of skin. The word torture suddenly had new meaning, new depth. Everything Elrond had ever known about Maedhros was suddenly different, changed. He saw him in a different light.

Maedhros groaned and tried to lift his head. He scrambled for his shirt and made a sound of dismay when he found it gone. His eyes met Elrond's and they locked on him, transmitting a level of sadness and resignment that Elrond had not known possible.

"Maedhros," managed Elrond. "I'm trying to cool you down."

Hands shaking, he emptied more of the canteen's water onto Maedhros' chest, watching the water catch in pools around the scars. Elrond couldn't look away, and he wished now that he had just run back when Maedhros' told him not to undress him.

"Does that feel better?" asked Elrond hopefully.

"Yes," groaned Maedhros. "It does. Let me go, boy. Give me my clothes back."

"I can't do that," whispered Elrond. "Forgive me."

Maedhros sighed said said, "I can see that you're only trying to help. Give me some of that water."

Elrond helped Maedhros drink the rest of the water from the canteen and gave him several minutes to recover.

"I can go back now," said Maedhros. "Please, give me my undershirt."

"But..."

"You are the first to see my chest since healer stopped tending to me," said Maedhros shortly. "I have accepted your help. Do not test me."

Elrond held the pile of clothes in one hand and helped Maedhros put the shirt back on, although he would only button it up halfway.

"It's too risky," said Elrond. _"Please."_

Maedhros grumbled but conceded, and with Elrond's help, he stood. They slowly made their way back across the field, Elrond trying to get Maedhros to lean on him a bit, which Maedhros refused. Elrond was secretly grateful; MAedhros was so tall that he might accidently crush Elrond in the process.

"Oh, thank goodness," sighed Maglor. "I was beginning to get worried. Wait-brother, where are your clothes?"

Elrond held them up sheepishly.

"I appear to have gotten sunstroke," said Maedhros flatly. "Elrond here helped me back."

Elrond flushed and decided to attribute it the sun beating hard overhead.

"Who knows? I might have been in serious danger," said Maedhros, half to himself. "Well, brother? Do you have any more water for me?"

Maglor happily handed off another canteen of water to his cantankerous older brother and whispered, "That's the closest you'll get to a thank you from him."

"Don't be ridiculous," grumbled Maedhros as he walked by. "I am very grateful, Elrond. Thank you."

Well, Elrond couldn't help but smile after that, could he?


End file.
